


Bamboozled

by MikeWritesThings



Series: trans octane [2]
Category: Apex Legends (Video Games)
Genre: Blood and Injury, Canon-Typical Violence, Drug Use, Friendship, Gen, Getting to Know Each Other, Humor, Mirage's Stutter Present And Accounted For, Octane | Octavio Silva is Trans, Trans Male Character, Trans Octane, because octane, but brief, octane/mirage can be interpreted as platonic or romantic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-21
Updated: 2019-07-21
Packaged: 2020-07-10 03:20:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19899007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MikeWritesThings/pseuds/MikeWritesThings
Summary: “Whatever you say,” Octavio said, adjusting his mask. “Let’s scrimmage, gringo.”“That word hurts my feelings,” Mirage complained.Or, the pre-games are smaller, and give you a much higher chance of meeting a famous Legend on friendlier terms. Usually they’d be too busy trying to put a bullet in your head.





	Bamboozled

**Author's Note:**

> nobody reads these but thats fine i am doing this for ME i am feeding ME because nobody else will
> 
> tw for some brief descriptions of blood and injury bc, apex, and injections because healing and also octane

The Apex Games brought in money. Like, big amounts of money. It brought in viewers from far and wide, from Angel City to Zone 18. Adults, the elderly, children all watched it, rooting for their favorite Legends and encouraging all bloodletting. Merchandise was sold (Bloodhound’s mask being particularly popular) and bets were made.

As such, every contestant was screened beforehand. Sure, the Games were violent, but they didn’t want abominable things like cannibalism going on. People just wanted to see a few good deaths on screen. Torture might make a few lose their lunch, and, more importantly, might make the Games lose a few viewers.

The game runners provided a questionnaire that every aspiring Legend had to answer, asking things ranging from _What do you eat during your free time?_ to _Have you ever skinned a human alive?_

Contestants also went through two separate physical tests, one of which was a standardized training room session that lasted one hour. It weeded out people who weren’t good enough, who were only in on a dare, or people who wished to drop out after seeing the capability of their opponents.

The second test was the pre-games: held before the season began, and ten squads a match rather than twenty. The game runners kicked off people a little too boring for the cameras, a little too useless to their teams. The weeding out of such individuals dropped potential Legends from the thousands to the hundreds, then to sixty. Sometimes more, so as the season continued, they could add fresh blood to spice things up and replace old.

Octavio was hoping to be one of those contestants, and knew his chances would be even better if he had at least one well-known Legend on his team rather than two Nobodys. There were about a dozen separate pre-game matches, and at least one Legend would be in every one. Ten squads: that was a one in ten chance he’d get a Legend teammate.

And the universe must have been listening to his silent pleas, because lo and behold, Mirage was on his team.

Technically, Octavio already knew Mirage. Well, he knew him as Elliott Witt, the dumbass that Ajay had taken to like one takes to a senile old man living alone: checking up on him constantly and making sure he hadn’t died yet. They had been on the same squad in Ajay’s first Game, and ever since she’d been supplying the anxiety meds the man hadn’t even known he’d needed until then.

Perhaps calling Elliott a dumbass was a bit too harsh, but Octavio wasn’t sure what other word to use for a guy who drunkenly flirted with his own decoy and then cried over it when it vanished.

Currently, they were seated in the mess hall, eating lunch before the pre-games started. He hadn’t really been hungry, but playing on an empty stomach was practically suicide, so he had eaten some sort of red meat that tasted sweet, for some reason. He finished eating quickly and secured his mask in place, vials full of stim strapped to his person and bionic legs jittering in anticipation. He’d already gotten two wide-eyed looks of recognition, both from fellow Nobodys, whom he had given a vigorous thumbs-up to. One had just kept staring and the other gave a thumbs-up back.

Suddenly, a man much taller than him appeared with a flourish, curly hair already styled in place, sitting on the chair opposite of him with a jaunty “hey!” It wasn’t hard to recognize him: Octavio had once owned a poster of him, after all.

“ _Que pasa,_ Elliott,” Octavio responded, voice high pitched with anticipation. He was filled with energy he was barely keeping restrained, fingers tightening over his thighs, lungs constricting for reasons that couldn’t be attributed to his (battle) binder.

Elliott instantly sputtered, all pretense of suaveness gone as he said, “That’s, that’s M-Mira-Mirage to you.”

“Sorry. Mirage.”

Mirage squinted at him, blowing a puff of hair out of his face as he regained steady control over his voice. “You’re Octopus, aren’t you?”

“I’m almost offended,” said Octavio, channeling as much bemusement as he could into his voice since Mirage couldn’t see his face. “But I can’t expect a gringo to pronounce it right.”

“Ouch, hey, sorry,” Mirage said instantly, holding his hands up in surrender. “Anyways, we’re about to be on a team, which is lucky for you, because I’m me. What kind of tricks you got up your sleeve?”

“I’m fast,” Octavio said earnestly. There was silence. Another Mirage popped into existence, slinging his arm around the real Mirage and looking at him in disappointment.

“I meant tricks like these,” Mirage said in explanation, gesturing to his decoy. 

“I’m fast.” Octavio repeated, fingers itching to grab a stim, but he knew that if he touched it before even getting on the dropship he’d inject himself immediately. “Don’t know what else to say, compadre.”

“That rhymes! I like that.” Mirage gave his decoy a fistbump and it vanished. “Hey, where’s the other Nobody?”

That’s what Octavio was wondering, too. Sure, it wouldn’t make the game start any faster, but he was antsy, impatient, bored. He craved adrenaline, energy, a reason to jump to his feet and run as fast as he could on his springy new legs. He currently had no reason to do so, and he was trying to behave so he wouldn’t get kicked out before the Games even began.

Suddenly, Ajay passed by him, holding a little juicebox in her fist, and he waved one arm wildly, nearly shouting, “Ajay! Hey!”

“Don’t talk to me,” Ajay said flatly, barely sparing him a glance. “I’m Lifeline right now.”

“What, so now that you’ve got Legend status you can’t talk to your best buddy?” Octavio tried his damnedest to make sure she could hear the pout in his voice, kicking his legs out like a petulant child and crossing his arms.

“Hey Lifeline!” Mirage said behind him, waving cheerfully.

“You’re so dramatic. Look, love, it’s not like that,” Ajay sighed, stopping so she could speak quickly and quietly. “One of my squadmates is a hardass Nobody. I’m trying not to give her any more reason to tell me off, because if she does, I’m going to kill her before the game starts.”

“I support you,” Octavio said earnestly.

“Of course you do. You got your,” Ajay sucked in a breath, “ _Battle binder_ on?”

“Yep, all good. The only thing I’ve gotta worry about is dying of boredom before the game begins.”

“Typical.” Ajay smiled at him before tipping her chin to Mirage, who waved. “See you in the Games, Mirage.”

“I hope not!” He responded cheerfully.

* * *

Their third squadmate never showed up, which wasn’t entirely uncommon. Tons of people dropped out at this point. It did suck, however, because once squadmates drop, the game runners don’t bother giving you a replacement.

“It’s really just a sc-scri-scree, a skim...it's just practice, okay?” Mirage explained as they flew above the knock-off version of Kings Canyon that served as the pre-game arena. Octavio was Jumpmaster, scrolling through his minimap and marking several locations in anticipation. Mirage did not say yes to any of them and was just lying back casually, arms behind his head and foot jittering slightly.

“You don’t need to take it all that seriously,” Mirage continued on breezily. “As long as the camera loves you, well, you’ll do fine. What’re you in here for, anyway?”

Several reasons. Money. Boredom. In need of a rush. Need to pay Ajay back. Need to test his new legs. Don’t want boobs forever, what is even the point of them?

“I like the thrill,” is what he said out loud. It was true, at least.

“All of your answers are so boring,” Mirage yawned, before threading his fingers through his curly hair and prettying it up. “Lifeline always tells me you’re a firecracker. Where’s all that infamous energy?”

“I’m restraining myself.” Octavio’s fingers flexed. There were vials of stim right in his bag, right within his reach...

_Not yet._

The dropship hatch suddenly opened, and a squad immediately jumped out. Mirage gave a low whistle and peeked out a bit, the wind a non-issue to him. “Guess it’s going time. Where d’you wanna drop?”

“I’ve been suggesting locations for the past eleven minutes,” Octavio deadpanned. Mirage grinned sheepishly and pulled out his own minimap, eyeing the dozens of pings Octavio had made. He tapped his finger against the knockoff version of Skulltown (nicknamed Shittown) and said, “Is here good?”

It was the first location he had pinged. “ _Por favor._ ”

Three squads had already dropped by the time they jumped, and Octavio knew there were more squads following them. Even being a knockoff version, the area had plenty of loot and shelter. His excitement elevated as they rocketed towards the rooftops, breath quickening behind his mask, and his fingers were already around a vial as soon as his metal feet touched the ground. In an instant, he had jammed a needle into his thigh, and the relief was exhilarating.

Octavio’s parents had supplied him with ADHD meds for a while, meds designed specifically to calm him down and focus him. The meds were so efficient and expensive they guaranteed that after continuous use, he would not need them anymore and his ADHD would ‘go away.’ They did work, technically. His legs didn’t jitter so much and he remained down-to-earth, but it was _awful._

He couldn’t daydream, things that had previously interested him no longer grabbed his attention, and he felt tired. All the time. He was _bored_. Unstimulated. Quitting his meds cold turkey had been the best decision he’d ever made in his life. He felt restless again, itching for something to happen, and he sought out thrills. He discovered stim, which gave him the exact opposite feeling of his ADHD meds, and he’d been an avid user of it ever since. Bringing stim to the arena with him felt like common sense.

The moment he felt his veins light on fire, Octavio was sprinting across the arena, rushing through a door and picking up several items along the way. Backpack, hop-up (Choke), RE-45, level two armor. He leapt through a window, pistol in hand, and vaulted over a fence separating the town from a few supply boxes. He looted them in no time, gaining a light mag and shield cells in the process.

All the while Mirage was yelling over his comms, “Hey! Where’d you go?! Ah shit, they’re shooting at me--go bamboozle! _HA!_ Typically, squadmates are supposed to stick together!”

More stim, and the next thing Octavio knew he was crouching beside Mirage, dragging him away from the gunfire. 

“How’d you get here so fast? Look out,” was all the warning he was given before he ducked his head to avoid an arc star.

“I told you, amigo. I’m fast.”

“Okay, yeah yeah, you’re fast, Doc Oc, now give me a weapon.”

They had safely made it out of the shitty Skulltown, and Octavio waved his pistol around. “This is all I got.”

“This is fine,” Mirage groaned, placing his hands on his hips and shaking his head. ”Just fine.”

“C’mon, what was it you said to me?” Octavio screwed his face up even though Mirage couldn’t see it and did a mocking imitation of his voice: “ _As long as the camera loves me, we’ll be fine._ ”

“I didn’t mean for you to take that seriously,” Mirage said, whining just a bit as they crouched alongside the fences to avoid being seen. “We still need to kill people. Among other things.”

“Whatever you say,” Octavio said, adjusting his mask and peeking around a corner. He could see a Peacekeeper and a R-99 in the distance, surrounded by ammo. “Let’s go scrimmage, gringo.”

“That word hurts my feelings,” Mirage complained as they jumped the fence and jogged towards the weapons.

“Do you just whine, is that just what you do?” Octavio asked, picking up the Peacekeeper and shotgun ammo. The slight relief he’d felt from all that running was quickly fading away, and antsiness was quickly making its return. He’d need more stim or action or _both_ if he wanted to stay sane.

“Just when I don’t have a weapon and I’m not killing people.” Mirage examined his R-99, and began fitting it with the barrel attachments he’d managed to snag some time ago. “I feel better already. Just stop calling me gringo and we’re good.”

“No,” Octavio said.

Mirage frowned. “I’m not even white, my dad’s bl-”

“It doesn’t mean white, stupid. It just means...why am I even explaining this to you? Let’s just go already!” Octavio kicked a door open and raced into the building, barely glancing into corners to affirm no enemies were waiting to ambush him. Mirage was jogging behind him, muttering to himself about _fucking kids._

The muttering was soon drowned out by a very large explosion, and Mirage yelping as he began spraying the air with bullets. Octavio skid to a stop, whirling around and his heart pumping with adrenaline as he readied the Peacekeeper in hand, whirring from the Choke hop-up. An unfamiliar masculine voice yelled “enemies here!”, but the voice soon cried out in pain as Mirage said confidently, “Downed!”

“Nice work,” Octavio said, pulling out his RE-45 to finish off the opponent as to not waste shotgun ammo. The Nobody just took it, not even bothering with the knockdown shield he clearly had.

“Maybe shouldn’t stay here long,” Mirage remarked as a deathbox took the Nobody’s place. “His teammates will be here soon.”

“Maybe _you_ shouldn't stay here long, but _I_ can outrun anybody,” Octavio boasted, taking a quick glance through the deathbox. Nothing interesting to him, but Mirage snatched up the Havoc rifle as his second weapon and the bodyshield.

“I understand perhaps sarcasm is like, your thing,” Mirage sighed, straightening up and stretching his arms above his head. His bright yellow suit was honestly hurting Octavio’s eyes, even behind green-tinted goggles. “But if you could tone it down, that would be ste...it’d be stew...su...it’d just be great, okay? We’re supposed to be squadmates, and it’s hard to want to save your life if you’re just rude to me the whole match.”

He had a point. Octavio needed to get into the real, actual Games for a multitude of reasons, and nothing would get him a spot on the roster faster than a glowing recommendation from a Legend. With a sigh that was silenced by his mask, he turned to Mirage, who towered above him, annoyingly tall.

“Sorry,” Octavio said, as genuinely as he could. “I’m just bored, and I want to move already.”

Mirage smiled at him. “Then let’s move.”

The whirring sound of a Choke that wasn’t Octavio’s emerged from the room beside them, and they both turned to see Bangalore, of all people, staring down her sights. 

“You’re not going anywhere,” she said, smirking, and fired. 

Mirage dropped five decoys and cloaked, running god knows where. Octavio ducked to avoid the bullets, glad she had a Choke so they didn’t spread so far. He jammed a needle up into his neck, and launched himself out the window, speeding past various shelters and buildings, everything around him a blur.

He heard footsteps to his right and saw a Nobody gaining on him, mechanical boots shuddering and giving her speed that rivaled his own. She had a sniper rifle in hand--a Longbow--and while it wasn’t great at close range, it could still injure him. He slid, barely avoiding her shot, and aimed his Peacekeeper. He caught her once in the stomach, slowing her enough for him to actually charge up his next shot and fire straight into her head. She was downed instantly and his pistol finished the job.

Octavio wasn’t even given the chance to consider looting her deathbox: a dark shadow suddenly loomed overhead, and he looked up only to realize it was Bangalore’s doing.

“Airstrike,” Octavio said out loud, hoping Mirage could hear him over his comms, wherever he was. “Airstrike!”

“I’m aware!” Mirage shouted over the comms. “Getting shot at, downed two of them but still getting shot at, there’s _so many_ teams here, why did we drop here?”

More stim went into Octavio’s system and he rounded the corner, looking for a place to hide until the airstrike was over. The barrage had already begun, black smoke filling the sky and the ground shaking from each missile. He nearly ducked into a building until he saw three squadmates standing over a deathbox: he did not currently feel like taking his chances.

He instead ran right past the building, right out into the open. A missile landed right behind him, knocking him off-balance. His head ached, vision blurring as he felt the shields of his armor shatter. He was slowed by another missile, falling to the ground and hitting his head against the corner of a building. Ouch. A concussion, probably.

He heard footsteps right behind him, and cursed his luck. Fuck. This was not going well.

Octavio staggered to his feet, reaching for his RE-45; he wasn’t sure his shaking arms could handle the power of his shotgun at the moment. A Nobody stood in the middle of the path, Devotion in hand. Octavio knew his pistol would be no match; he’d be downed instantly. The first shot hit him in the shoulder as he fired his own weapon, aiming for the Nobody’s chest but not quite hitting his mark from his still aching head and blurred vision.

A series of shots fired, but not from the Nobody’s Devotion. Mirage dropped from the top of a roof, right onto the deathbox left behind by the Nobody. Must have been the last of their squad.

“Five kills between us, baby,” Mirage said with a grin, but the grin quickly faded away when Octavio collapsed onto the ground. “Whoa, whoa, hey!”

Mirage dragged his body into a tiny shelter and kicked the door closed behind him, crouching beside him in concern. “Kid, you okay? Do you need health? I’ve got some syringes.”

“That was fucking awesome,” Octavio groaned. one hand reaching up to clutch his bleeding shoulder. “A syringe would be great. Just jam it into my neck.”

“You’ll get used to all the pain,” Mirage assured him, withdrawing a small box from his backpack and taking the syringe out. “It becomes fun after a while.”

“It’s fun now. I mean, it still hurts, but it’s fun.” Octavio’s eyes were crossed. “I have a concussion.”

“Yep, Bangalore will do that to you. She’s still alive, too, ugh. Hold still.”

The pain seemed to seep away, and the bleeding stopped. The area felt numb now, and he was able to sit up. His head was still buzzing a bit, but he could see clearly now, and instantly reached for his shield cells to recharge his armor.

“Oh, I got you something from one of the Nobodys,” Mirage said brightly, pulling an object from his pocket and depositing it in Octavio’s lap. “Close-range, digital threat. You’re against Bangalore, and this is your first time, so if she ever smokes us out...well, I can distract with a decoy and you can take her out. You’re fast, and with the smoke, she’ll never see it coming.”

Octavio picked up the optics, examining them, before attaching them to his Peacekeeper. “Gracias. For the syringe and all.”

“Well, I wanna win this thing, no big deal,” Mirage said, before noticing he was still hovering beside Octavio and straightening up to his feet. “Ring’s closing in. Like. Ten seconds, but we’re good. Might bump a few more squads into the area, though.”

“Good. I’m ready!”

“As I knew you’d be, Octagon. Let’s move.”

They moved carefully through the town, but it seemed dead. People must still be recovering from the recent firefight, healing up and searching for ammo. Octavio himself had plenty of light ammo, but needed more for his shotgun. Mirage sent a decoy into a building, Havoc at the ready, but when the decoy wasn’t immediately shot down they entered the building, breathing easy.

The area had been looted already, leaving nothing behind but a lone box of energy ammo that Mirage snatched up and a level one helmet. Octavio peeked out a window and saw someone’s heel disappear around a corner.

“Someone’s right there,” he said, pointing. “Can we just attack now? What’s the point of just waiting?”

“I’d feel a bit more confident if we had a third squadmate, but we don’t. For all we know, that Nobody could lead us right into Bangalore’s sights.” Mirage pulled out his holotablet, which displayed a series of names. “And she’s _still_ not dead yet. Only four other squads left, though.”

“Maybe if you weren’t so slow, you could dodge her bullets,” Octavio murmured sullenly, shifting his shotgun in hand.

“Dude, I’m not expecting you to put me on a ped- a pest- a pent- a p...I’m not expecting you to admire me, but the _snark. Please._ ”

“Right. _Lo siento._ ” Octavio crouched low, metal knees brushing against the door. “I’m just going to sit here and wait then. For something. Anything.”

“Good,” Mirage replied, crossing the room and sliding against the wall, down onto his knees. “I’ll stay here, then.”

They lasted, perhaps, five minutes in silence. Octavio’s leg jittered, eyes darting across the expanse of desert and shelter before him. His fingers twitched, wanting to pull the trigger of his gun, wanting to take stim and inject it into his system, feel a rush and relief at the same time. But he didn’t; just twitched where he crouched, heart rate speeding up and then slowing down only to speed up again when he thought he saw something move in the far distance.

Octavio turned his head after a solid minute of nothing happening, and found Mirage playing cards with his decoy.

“Seriously?”

“What? I’m bored!” Mirage threw his hands (and cards) up into the air. His decoy made a desperate attempt to catch them, but it just blinked away as soon as the card touched its fingers. The cards landed between Mirage’s outstretched legs.

“Then can we _go?_ ” Octavio asked, and Mirage sighed, pulling his holotablet out again. 

“Three other squads, and the ring will close again soon. We have to move anyways.” Mirage tucked the holotablet away in his pocket and got to his feet. Octavio sprung into a standing position, shaking his limbs out and holstering his Peacekeeper. Mirage holstered his Havoc, but pulled his barely-touched R-99 out instead.

“Easier to carry. Just in case,” he said by way of explanation, and Octavio rolled his eyes but followed him out of the building anyways. A decoy did a mandatory safety check, running out into the open but not getting hit. They walked in silence, stepping over deathboxes and occasionally looting through them if they glowed purple.

“What are you in the games for, anyway?” Octavio asked out of boredom after another deathbox wielded nothing interesting but a decent shotgun bolt.

He knew of Mirage, of course: the holographic trickster who charmed audiences across the galaxy, adding flair and flavor to team compositions. He once won an Apex Game by himself with nothing but a Wingman, two arc stars and several well-timed decoys. Octavio, embarrassingly, owned some stupid calendar thing he’d bought three years ago that featured the Legends, and his favorite picture had been the one attached to June: Mirage in swimtrunks grinning flirtatiously at the camera.

He knew some surface part of Elliott Witt too: the anxiety he hadn’t even realized he’d had until two years ago (helped along by one Ajay Che), who flirted with anything that walked when drunk and was notorious for a particular pumpkin incident.

But he didn’t know anything else besides that, and might as well fill in the gaps while nothing’s happening. Plus, he might learn of some secret weakness to take him out in the future once they’re placed on opposing teams.

“Honestly? I wanted to make ends meet,” Mirage said casually, though his fingers began twitching over his gun. “My brothers all went MIA, you see, during the Frontier War, and we were kind of broke, my mom and I. I owned a bar and worked sixty hours a week, but it didn’t seem good enough, not even with mom and I’s mechanic stuff on the side. Heard about the Games, about the money, almost didn’t join, but got mom’s blessing and now. Here I am.”

“Touching,” Octavio said, though not sarcastically. He’d always had money, all his life, what with his parents being rich and all. As of late, the money was nowhere to be seen: at least, when it came to his stunts, which his parents refused to pay for hospital costs and damages (and god forbid he tell them about the rescheduling fee for his surgery). He still had money, though. Food, shelter, clothes, whatever he needed, he had. He almost couldn’t imagine not having all of that. Some people weren’t as lucky.

“It’s ‘cause of her I’ve got all this decoy business going on,” Mirage said, peeking around a corner and checking to see if the coast was clear. Octavio bounced anxiously, waiting for any change in Mirage’s posture, but he kept going calmly. “It was her life’s work, I pored over it.”

“It’s good then that you win all these Games,” Octavio said, scuffing at some sand with his foot. “It’s a risk.”

“Yeah, well, mom doesn’t have to eat cup ramen every meal anymore thanks to me, so I think I’m getting by pretty well now.” Mirage laughed, running a hand through his curly hair in which Octavio vaguely recognized as a nervous gesture. “Man, I’d never actually talk about all this on TV. You’re lucky.”

“To be blessed with the great Mirage’s backstory? Truly.” Octavio suddenly froze. He could hear footsteps outside, rushing, and a .grin split his face. _Finally,_ someone to fight.

He grabbed his Peacekeeper, leaning towards the window and aiming. Mirage crouched behind him, aiming as well. However, the Nobody currently tearing past was being chased by a flock of birds pecking ruthlessly at her face. Probably another Nobody’s doing.

“You wanna deal with that?” Mirage asked after a very long moment of silence. 

“I’ve got a mask,” Octavio said. “If the birds attack me, my eyes are fine. Not yours so much, pretty boy.”

“I have goggles,” Mirage shot back, before sighing. “You wanna go after her?”

“Please,” Octavio begged.

“Alright, but come right back. And here, take this, just in case.” Mirage handed him several syringes. “Oh, and don’t forget, you’re running low on shotgun ammo. Newbies always seem to run out before the big fight.”

Octavio pocketed the syringes, leaping out the window, gun in hand. Manic energy was already spreading throughout his body as he watched the Nobody shriek and swipe at the birds.

“And the ring’s closing in two minutes!” Mirage called after him as he ran towards the Nobody. “Keep an eye on your map! October! You hear me? Be careful!”

One stim later, Octavio was neck and neck with the Nobody, who seemed desperate to force the birds onto him instead, shoving her hands towards him to push the birds away from her face. Octavio stuck his leg out, tripping her into the sand. She coughed the sand out of her mouth and kept shrieking, arms flailing wildly as he shot at her. He shot a few of the birds, but they disappeared as soon as they were hit, like Mirage’s decoys. 

The Peacekeeper downed her, but she wasn’t dead yet. Charging up his Choke, he aimed carefully at her head and said with a grin, “I’ll make this quick.”

With reddened eyes, she looked up at him and said, “Got one.”

He heard it before he felt it; the sound of an arc star whizzing through the air. He turned, eyes wide, just as it hit his shoulder. With an electric buzz, his shields instantly shattered, and he jumped around her, searching for the source. He noticed a figure standing atop a building, body and face completely shrouded by a long, billowing red coat. Despite their obscured face, he realized too late that it was a sniper.

“Ah fuck,” he said, straightening up, and the shot pierced his chest. Stumbling, Octavio holstered his shotgun and crouched out of sight. With one hand he dropped a grenade by the Nobody’s head- it would be enough to kill her. With his other hand, he jammed stim into his thigh, and tore across the desert, sliding beneath cloth canopies and running straight into an entire squad.

Panic and adrenaline filled his being as he ran in circles around them, confusing them, before slamming his shoulder against a door and running through several shelters. They shot at his feet but couldn’t keep up, and he eventually collapsed against a wall, coughing up droplets of blood.

One more shot, one stray bullet, not even aimed at his head and he’d be dead. Letting out a shuddering breath, he fumbled around with his things for a minute, reloading his Peacekeeper in case someone barged into his safe space. More blood dribbled from his lips, but this was fine.

Actually, it wasn’t, the shot in his chest felt extremely painful and though he knew a simple syringe would make the pain go away and close the wound, his hand still traveled up to his shoulder, feeling around the neckline of his vest. The wound was filling his lungs up with blood, and the binder was squeezing his ribs together. With a press of a button, it suddenly stopped compressing his chest, turning loose, and he was able to breathe a little easier.

“Bad news, compadre, I’m kind of holed up in a building and pretty sure there’s a squad tailing me.”

“Yeah, I can see you on the map,” came Mirage’s faintly annoyed but worried voice. “I’m already halfway there, I’ve got more health and picked up a better bodyshield for you off the chick you killed.”

“Thanks,” Octavio groaned, using two syringes. He tossed them aside once finished, and though he could breathe a bit more, he was still bleeding. At least he had stopped coughing up blood. Footsteps pounded outside his shelter and he clutched his shotgun close to his body, taking a shuddering breath in anticipation. He could do this, he could survive. He’s survived worse.

Mirage suddenly burst through the door, sending a decoy in the opposite direction. It was chased by gunfire as he crouched beside Octavio, depositing a few syringes into his lap as he babbled about squads and the ring.

“Thanks,” Octavio repeated. He figured that injecting the syringe closer to the wound would numb it faster and pulled the neckline of his top down a bit, healing. Mirage’s eyes widened slightly, but he didn’t say anything until Octavio shrugged off his body armor and replaced it with the one Mirage had grabbed for him.

“You haven’t gotten your mast-mase-mass...surgery yet?”

“Nah,” Octavio said, not really that embarrassed as the vest compressed again. There. Battle binder once more. “Kind of can’t at the moment. The shock would kill me, or whatever. Pretty sure it’s bullshit.”

“Sounds bullshit,” Mirage agreed.

“Surprised you know what a mastectomy is in the first place, amigo.”

“Hey, one of my older brothers is...was, trans,” Mirage said defensively. “Anyways, can you breathe? No shame in taking the binder off for a bit. I know that shit hurts.”

“I’m fine.” Octavio pulled out his holotablet, scanning the list of names and grinning when he saw the grenade had indeed killed that Nobody, right above Mirage killing her teammate. “Two other squads left!”

“Yeah!” Mirage brightened considerably. “We’re doing great, kid!”

“Can we just attack them and get on with it already?” Octavio begged, getting to his feet and examining the amount of ammo he had left. Eight rounds on his Peacekeeper, forty for his RE-45. Mirage’s lips pursed, and Octavio didn’t even bother waiting for his answer, letting out a groan.

“Come on, pleeee-”

“Yeah.”

“-eaaase, wait, what?”

“I said yeah. Let’s do it, baby.”

Octavio bounced excitedly in place, legs jittering and practically jogging in place. “Then let’s go, let’s go let’s go let’s go!”

“We need a battle plan first!” Mirage laughed, but gunfire sounded in the distance, and they heard the familiar sounds of an airstrike. “Or, well, we could attack while they’re distracted.”

“Great idea!” Octavio yelled, already halfway across the desert. He could see them already: Bangalore and her squad of Nobodys had the high ground, firing on the squad he had narrowly avoided earlier. He watched the squad on the ground, watched one of their shots hit a Nobody on Bangalore’s team. White smoke clashed with the black smoke of her airstrike as she went to revive them, and he took his chance.

The other squad was recharging their shields when he attacked, sending two shotgun blasts into the only Nobody with full health. It hit him in the face both times and he collapsed to the ground in agony. Whipping his pistol out, Octavio dodged an arrow--okay, so one of them has arrows somehow, cool--and shot the others.

They were both downed, but none of them had actually died yet.

“Alright, which one of you’s got that special knockdown shield?” Octavio asked cheerfully, and instantly two of the Nobodys pointed at the third. Octavio dropped two grenades right in front of him, laughing when their death boxes popped into existence. He looted the knockdown shield for himself while Mirage sent decoys into Bangalore’s smoke, laughing every time they were shot down.

“Okay, kid,” Mirage said over their comms as Bangalore popped more smoke. “You got that digital threat equipped, right?”

Octavio held his Peacekeeper up to his face, seeing red outlines clearly through the smoke. “ _Si._ ”

“Go wild.”

Octavio ran, full-throttle, into the smoke, aiming down his sights and firing. He missed twice, one of the Nobodys quick on their feet. The second Nobody was thrashing about in confusion, unable to see through the smoke. He downed the second Nobody, killing him completely with his RE-45 for good measure. His comms cackled to life as Mirage let out a yell: “Ah, fuck! No! I’m bleeding out! Be careful!”

Octavio let out a half-laugh as he shot at the Nobody still alive, tossing aside his pistol as soon as its ammo ran out. It was easier to make out figures through the smoke now, and his digital threat sights were no longer needed as he fired once, twice, and went to fire a third time-

Except, there were no more rounds to be shot.

The realization hit him quicker than the Nobody’s well-aimed shot. It pierced him, right through his skull, and he fell backwards, tumbling off the high ground Bangalore’s team was situated on and lading, hard, on his side, kicking up a cloud of sand into the air. 

“Great,” Mirage sighed, and a moment passed. “Game should be over now. Hang on. Octane? Buddy? Please tell me you can self-resurrect.”

“On it,” Octavio confirmed, already jamming the syringe into his chest. His wounds were healing slowly, and he could hear two voices above him:

“That’s it, right?”

“Not yet.”

“But we won, didn’t we? Unless there’s a third teammate? Shit, we’ve got to-”

“Nope. That’s not it.”

A shadowy figure suddenly loomed over him, kicking more sand up. He looked up, mask breaking apart and hanging off his face--he was sure Bangalore could see his wide eyes as she smirked down at him, silhouetted against the sun.

“You did well, Greenie,” she said, and fired a full Peacekeeper blast into his face.

* * *

Octavio jolted awake, disturbing several wires from their place on his body. Every part of him ached in both a good and bad way. He had a splitting headache, dark spots appearing at the corners of his eyes when he tried to sit up, and he was pretty sure there was a hole somewhere in his chest. He looked down his shirt, binder removed, and saw that his skin was clear of any gaping bullet wounds.

“You get used to it,” a voice interrupted his searching, and he looked up to see Mirage tugging the headband off his forehead and shaking his hair out of his eyes. “Unless you don’t, and then you actually die for real from the trauma. God, am I glad you’re alive.”

Octavio let out a short burst of laughter, and Mirage gave a smile of his own. “Me too, amigo. I feel like shit. Good shit, though.”

Mirage’s eyebrows drew together in confusion, but he laughed anyways. “Yeah, whatever that means.”

They both got to their feet, shaking off the wires and other technological things provided by game runners. Octavio turned away from Mirage and put his binder back on, wincing as it compressed his chest, the pain still alive. After a brief moment’s hesitation, he decompressed it, and breathed easier.

“We killed a bunch of people,” Mirage said with pride, “At least ten. That’s a whole third of the competitors!”

“Not so bad for a Nobody, eh?” Octavio bragged, fighting back the blush rising to his cheeks. Mirage beamed at him, hands on his hips and as full of energy as the other was.

“You say you’re a Nobody, but I think you’ll do great, kid. You’ve got that energy, that spark that makes Legends interesting.”

Before Octavio could respond, an intern rushed in, eyes wide.

“Congrats, you two!” He said cheerfully. “Second place!”

“Hey, Gary,” Mirage greeted. “How’d we do?”

“Oh, we loved you two,” Gary said earnestly, looking between them both. “The camera couldn’t get enough of you, much better than Bangalore barking orders and Poe’s birds. Of course, none of the footage will be released, but we wished we could release it. It’s so good.”

“You’re just exaggerating now,” Mirage laughed, and Octavio basked in the praise from the stranger. “So we both get spots in the roster?”

“Of course!” Gary handed them both packets, detailing the Apex Game schedule, warnings, disclaimers, etc., before leaving the room.

“Welp. You did it!” Mirage said, raising his arms in celebration. Octavio peered up at him, grinning. Mirage was much taller than him, which, to be fair, wasn’t that hard to achieve. Though Octavio was blessed with musculature, he stood at a whopping five foot four; however, it did make hugging a lot quicker and easier. He wrapped his arms around the other man’s waist, and felt rather than saw Mirage’s surprise. He received two pats on the back and withdrew, still grinning.

“Sorry, I’m a hugger,” Octavio said by way of explanation, and the other man blew out a puff of air, but was still smiling.

“Nah, it’s fine. I mean, I took you more for a high five kinda guy, but this is fine.” Mirage held his hand out for a fistbump, which Octavio happily obliged. “See you in the ring, kid. No hard feelings if we kill each other, right?”

“Of course, but it might be your deathbox that comes first, Mirage.”

Mirage waved his hand around dismissively. “C’mon, Elliott’s fine now. Speaking of names, what’re you gonna make your name? Picking a stage name brings you one step closer to Legend status, they say.”

Octavio cocked his head to the side, thinking about it for a millisecond before shrugging. “I kind of like ‘Octane’. Doc Oc is pretty close.”

Elliott blinked. “If you make either of those your name, I demand royalty fees.”

“In your dreams.” They had exited the medbay now, looking at the other competitors. He saw the girl who had been attacked by birds, who gave a huff when she saw him and pointedly stomped in the other direction. “Guess I’m making enemies already.”

“You’ll get used to it. I’ll see you around, alright?”

“Yep.” Octavio nodded, before jabbing at Elliott’s ribs. “Maybe I’ll come around your bar for a drink now and then, huh?”

Elliott blinked, freezing. “Uh, no? Can you even drink? Wait, how old are you?”

Octavio blinked back. “Twenty-four?”

There was a long moment of silence. “I _deadass_ thought you were a teenager this whole time. Like, nineteen.”

Octavio kicked him in the shin.

* * *

Octavio found Ajay sitting outside the compound, petting her D.O.C boredly. He snuck up behind her and jumped hard, laughing when the metal clanging of his feet hitting the floor made her shriek.

“Asshole!” She hissed, and, still laughing, Octavio sunk onto the floor beside her, taking in the sun’s heat, a welcome contrast to the cold indoors of the compound. “How’d you do?”

“Second place, got a bunch of Bangalore right in my face,” Octavio said, brushing a few strands of his hair out of his eyes. It was in desperate need of redyeing, his hair now more brown than green, but he hadn’t really gotten around to that yet, what with the whole losing his legs thing. Perhaps he might not do it at all.

“Better than I did,” Ajay said sullenly. “The Nobodys I was paired with? Well, the hardass was yelling at me the whole time, alerted everyone in the area of our position. I killed three people, but she got shot down before she could contribute anything. The other Nobody died shortly after, for real. Went into shock and didn’t wake up.”

Octavio watched her pet her D.O.C again, lips pursed. “So you’re not going to be on the roster?”

“No, I will,” she said with a smile that quickly faded away. “The game runners understood nothing was my fault. The other Nobody won’t get in, though.”

“Good,” Octavio said. “Glad we’re in it together.”

“Yeah. How you feeling?” Ajay eyed his clothing. “Did you get shot in the chest? Your vest isn’t compressed.”

“Yeah, it huuuurts,” Octavio whined, slumping further onto the ground. “Everything hurts. Feels like I died.”

“That’s the point,” Ajay said with a chuckle, before getting to her feet, her drone following. “Want to grab a bite to eat, love?”

“Please,” he begged.

* * *

“First real Game,” Ajay said from across Octavio, fiddling with her hands. “Think you could kill me if you had to?”

“No offense, but yes,” Octavio said, mask secured. It felt a lot less hot wearing it after getting a much-needed haircut.

“Good, because I didn’t want you to be offended if I killed you without hesitation.”

“I would never be offended if you killed me. In fact, I think if anyone deserves to kill me, it’s you.” Octavio’s fingers drummed against the table in anticipation, scanning the crowd to see who was nervous and who was not. He had announced to his followers two days ago that he’d be participating in the new Apex season, and he had a camera strapped to his chest already, though it wasn’t livestreaming yet. The drumming of his fingers quickly stopped when everyone’s holotablets gave a collective ding, signifying that teams had been decided.

Ajay brightened as she saw Gibraltar’s name on her list, and it only made Octavio dread taking his own holotablet out, prepared to see two Nobodys on display. After all, he was a Nobody himself; Legends often got paired with other Legends for maximum entertainment value.

Suddenly, an arm draped around his shoulders, and he heard a familiar voice whoop, “Alright, teammates, hell yeah!”

Octavio glanced up to see Elliott with a wide smile on his face, holotablet in hand. There were two names displayed: a Nobody who went by _‘_ **_Gambit’,_ ** and **_‘Octavio Silva (Octane).’_ **

“They really did love us, bro,” Elliott sang, and Ajay rolled her eyes. Octavio returned his grin, legs bouncing up and down as adrenaline filled his body. “Let the games begin!”

**Author's Note:**

> anyways octane is trans in this and if ur gonna leave rude comments like last time fuck off
> 
> mirage/octane good but i cant decide if their relationship is "yeah we gay keep scrolling" or just bros but like "wanna see my whole world bro?" "Bro that's just your selfie cam" "because you're my whole world bro" "bro"
> 
> anyways [tumblr](https://seerofmike.tumblr.com/), [twitter](https://twitter.com/tsodmike), [and others](https://youtu.be/fIkZOLsnoqY?t=9)


End file.
